


Entangled

by Semjaza



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: 5V5N, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Father/Son Incest, Hate Sex, M/M, Obsession, Post-DMC5, Restraints, Slight D/S Vibes, VerNero - Freeform, very slight breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semjaza/pseuds/Semjaza
Summary: Nero vowed to kill Vergil the second he got free. He couldn’t say so, because he didn’t have any air left, but he could move his hand enough to flip Vergil off. The vines tightened again, and Nero’s brain supplied him with a memory, half-delirious, of fighting Urizen and losing, of blood-scented tentacles coiling around him. He’d been hard for all of that fight, aroused by the struggle, and he was hard now, his erection pressing against his jeans. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and wondered if Vergil would just let him die here. Vergil would think it was funny.
Relationships: Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	Entangled

**Author's Note:**

> Written for It’s Got to Stay in the Family: A Spardacest Zine (find them on twitter).

Nero couldn’t breathe. The demon’s spines pierced his lungs, leaving him choking and gagging on the floor of the dungeon. He spat blood and shuddered, even the smallest movement sending bright twists of pain through him. His vision blurred as he struggled, but he could see, just barely, Vergil watching him. Watching, and not helping. Maybe a hint of a smirk on his lips, maybe an eyebrow raised. Nero couldn’t tell and didn’t care. He let his trigger hit, felt the icy fire flood his veins. The demon changed its mind about tormenting him, suddenly unable to get away fast enough. Nero caught it in his hands and bashed its brains out against the vine-covered walls. He wiped blood off his lips and turned to his father.

“So, you weren’t planning on helping with this at all?”

Vergil tilted his head, the gesture not quite human. “Am I getting paid to assist you?” he drawled, as though he cared about money or even knew anything about it.

Nero scowled. “No.”

“Then you have your answer.”

Nero counted to ten inside his head in an attempt to prevent himself from committing patricide. If he’d ever thought Dante was annoying, it was only because he’d yet to meet the sheer insufferableness of Vergil. He looked at his father and wondered if Dante had killed Vergil the first time just for the absolute pleasure of trouncing him. It was all Nero could do to keep his hands off Vergil, to keep from grinding Vergil’s face into the dirt.

He didn’t feel bad about this. He was sure the feeling was mutual. The need to touch each other was definitely a demon thing. The excessive violence was a perk.

Since Dante and Vergil had returned from Hell, Nero had lived with them, as an experiment. He’d wanted to know more about his family and figured working out of Dante’s office wouldn’t kill him. He’d underestimated the level of utter dysfunction that surrounded every aspect of the twins’ lives, but that was okay. Nero was adaptable. He’d slept rough lots of nights while hunting demons. He could certainly survive sleeping on Dante’s sofa. All told, he and Dante got along fairly well.

The problem was Vergil.

Vergil was feral.

Vergil was elegant and graceful and perfectly snide. He watched Nero sleep. He stalked Nero for days at a time and then seemed to forget that he existed. He didn’t think of Nero as a person and didn’t quite seem capable of acting like a person himself. He was a devil dressed in a person’s clothing, pretending, for the first time in a long time, to live a person’s life.

Nero wanted him. And hated him.

And felt bad for both wanting and hating. The man he’d met for an instant at the top of the Qliphoth, who’d offered him a book of weird poems and then jumped into Hell rather than be his father, hadn’t seemed as much of an asshole as the man who came back.

Nero had mentioned this to Dante, who shrugged, accustomed to his brother. “Maybe V was closer to the surface then? You two got along, right? But V wasn’t all of Vergil. In fact, I’d say he was less than half. A scrap, even. And now you’re getting the whole Vergil deal, which is-”

“Terrible,” Nero finished for him.

Dante smiled apologetically, and that worried Nero more than anything else.

*

Nero stepped over the demon’s disintegrating corpse and headed further into the dungeon. The castle was overrun, and its owner had definitely failed to explain the true extent of the situation. Nero figured this job would end with him intimidating his client into paying him fairly. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He hacked his way through a tangle of vines, kicking at them as they twined around his legs. Vergil watched him, smirking as Nero tried to avoid the squirming vegetation. Nero ignored him.

Predictably, Vergil didn’t help kill the next pack of demons, or the pack after that. Nero couldn’t tell whether it was because Vergil liked to watch him fight or wanted to see him in pain. Heading upstairs into the fortress, he fought wave after wave of grotesque hellspawn. More demons clattered down the steps towards him, and Nero slaughtered them until he was dizzy with bloodlust.

While the last demon bled out at his feet, Nero turned to sneer at Vergil.

Vergil leaned against the wall, watching him. He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes dark with desire.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Nero hissed at him and launched himself up the stairs.

The upper levels looked only slightly more like a castle, with long hallways lined with ruined portraits and fraying tapestries. Everything was overgrown with vines – unlike the dungeon, these ones seemed to be thriving. Greenery crowded the windows and blocked out most of the light. The leaves scented the room when Nero brushed against them, a mixture of mint and tobacco that wasn’t exactly unpleasant, just strange. The vines shivered as he walked past, tendrils reaching for him.

Vergil, asshat that he was, didn’t bother to shout a warning.

The vines looped around Nero’s chest and throat, dragging him back against the wall. Thorns snagged on his skin and drew blood. Nero heaved against them, trying to rip himself free. He triggered, snarling and flailing, and the vines drank his power, drained him dry. He thrashed and the vines tightened their grip, enough that he lost his breath for a moment. Nero reached for his trigger again, but there was nothing left. He felt a vine slide over his lips and bared his teeth against it because there was absolutely no way this thing was getting into his mouth. As his vision went dark around the edges, he heard Vergil make a soft sound that might have been laughter.

Nero vowed to kill him the second he got free. He couldn’t say so, because he didn’t have any air left, but he could move his hand enough to flip Vergil off. The vines tightened again, and Nero’s brain supplied him with a memory, half-delirious, of fighting Urizen and losing, of blood-scented tentacles coiling around him. He’d been hard for all of that fight, aroused by the struggle, and he was hard now, his erection pressing against his jeans. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and wondered if Vergil would just let him die here. Vergil would think it was funny.

The pressure on his throat released, and Nero gulped down as much air as his straining lungs would allow. His vision cleared, revealing Vergil standing far too close. His father had a handful of the vine, gently pulling it from around Nero’s throat, the vine following submissively. Because of course it would. Nero snarled in helpless rage, and Vergil smiled coldly. He didn’t pull away the vines that bound Nero to the wall, his arms pinned to his sides. Instead, he ran his fingers over Nero’s belt buckle before sliding them lower. He traced the outline of Nero’s throbbing cock through his jeans, his touch featherlight, and Nero bucked his hips and swore.

“I hate you so fucking much,” he growled, unable to decide whether he wanted to kick Vergil away or wrap his legs around him.

Vergil didn’t answer him or even give any acknowledgement that he’d heard. He leaned his shoulder against the wall beside Nero, watching him intently. The vines didn’t try to touch Vergil, and Nero figured they probably had sense enough to be afraid.

“I’m not asking for your help if that’s what you’re waiting for,” Nero said, leaving the ‘ _you spooky fucker’_ part unvoiced and hoping his tone implied it. He did his best to keep from arching into Vergil’s touch, craving just a little bit more pressure.

“You will, eventually.” Vergil sounded bored, but his eyes were dark with interest. “But still, this is a good look on you. Tell me, is it the restraint that’s doing it for you, or that you lost the fight?”

“I haven’t lost this fight,” Nero snapped. Vergil raised an eyebrow, and Nero wondered if maybe they were talking about two different things. It didn’t matter. He flexed against the vines, trying to shred them with pure physical strength, and gasped when they tightened again.

“If you keep doing that you’ll knock yourself unconscious,” Vergil stated mildly, and Nero thought that there was more threat there than was really necessary. Still, the idea of being that vulnerable next to Vergil was awful. Nero stopped struggling and looked at his father.

“So, you’re just going to stand there and watch me, like you’ve been doing all day?”

“No,” said Vergil, and palmed Nero’s crotch.

Nero yelped and pressed hard into his hand. Vergil allowed it for a moment, letting Nero shiver against his palm, then stepped back. Nero made an embarrassingly needy sound and bit his tongue trying to suppress it.

“I’m not going to beg,” he said and hated that it sounded like a plea. His cock twitched when Vergil looked him in the eyes, and if that wasn’t the worst fucking thing _ever_. He caught his breath, trying not to pant, or whine, or otherwise act like a little bitch in heat now that he had Vergil’s undivided attention. 

“You will,” Vergil said, and kissed him.

Vergil’s mouth was hot and demanding, and Nero’s response surprised himself, the intensity of his desire, how quickly he submitted. He closed his eyes and sucked on Vergil’s tongue and was rewarded when Vergil stepped closer. He pressed his thigh between Nero’s legs, and Nero moaned into his mouth. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding down, as much as the vines would allow. Nero’s movement made them tighten further, and he knew he was going to end up with bruises and friction burns, at least until he could trigger again. He gasped against Vergil’s mouth, sharing breath, knowing he was a little bit woozy from lack of oxygen and determined to use it as an excuse for his current behaviour. Vergil pulled away from the kiss, and Nero whined before he could stop himself.

“You’re a bit of a slut,” Vergil said, as though he and his twin were paragons of virtue, and Nero some sort of blasphemous sinner they’d found on the roadside. Nero would have kicked him in the crotch except that there was no way to do it from this position, with his legs spread around Vergil.

“Fuck you,” he hissed instead, starting to blush and hating that too.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” Vergil asked, amused. He touched one of the vines that crisscrossed Nero’s chest, and it obligingly loosened. Not enough to free Nero, but enough for Vergil to open a button and slide his hand under Nero’s shirt, finding a nipple and rolling it under his fingers. Nero grit his teeth and refused to look at him.

“I can help you, Nero. You need only ask.” He leaned closer again, his mouth dropping to Nero’s throat, kissing a warm line upwards. Nero wasn’t fooled by the gentleness. He waited, his breath roughened, for the cruelty that would follow. A knee to the gut, or a vicious word, or, he felt it as he thought it, Vergil’s nail dragging over his nipple, a twist of pain and pleasure. He couldn’t hide his wince or the way his hips twitched up against Vergil. He felt Vergil’s mouth against his throat, curving into a smile, felt the teeth behind it, growing sharper.

“You’re thinking of when I fought you before. How you were ensnared, entwined with me. I could feel your heart, each pulse, beating like a captured rabbit’s...” Vergil ran his thumb over Nero’s heart, and Nero waited for the nail to sharpen into a claw, to gouge. He took a deep, shaky breath, the vines cutting into him, feeling like he’d die if Vergil didn’t hurry up and actually touch him.

“You liked it, didn’t you? Beaten, trapped, completely in my power,” Vergil asked softly, his voice rasping hotly in Nero’s ear.

“Yeah.” Nero heard himself agree and clenched his jaw shut, horrified. Vergil dropped a smirking kiss onto his lips, coaxing Nero’s mouth open.

“That’s it,” he whispered, both hands coming up to cup Nero’s face. Nero drank down his kisses, wondering what it would cost him to just say please. His brain tripped over the idea, refused to submit further even if it killed him, and Vergil seemed to know it. He reached down and unbuckled Nero’s belt, tugging it loose and tossing it aside. He popped the button on Nero’s jeans and then slowly opened the zipper. Nero squirmed. He couldn’t help it. He moaned when Vergil finally freed his erection, pushing into his hands, desperate for contact. When Vergil dropped gracefully to his knees, Nero felt his heart stutter in his chest.

He knew Vergil wasn’t doing this to be nice. This was about power and dominance, and always had been. He wished he could lift his hands to cover his mouth, hoping to muffle the sounds escaping him. Instead, he tensed his hands into fists and bit down on his lip in a futile attempt to keep silent. It was hopeless. Vergil had a wicked mouth, warm and wet and perfect. Nero couldn’t move much, and Vergil’s hands on his hips kept him from thrusting, and so he had to simply stand there, at Vergil’s mercy.

And Vergil was pitiless. He took Nero into his mouth, not bothering to be gentle. Nero’s head hit the wall behind him at the same time his cock hit the back of Vergil’s throat. Vergil worked him over roughly, not wasting any time, sucking hard on the head of Nero’s cock, and then dipping his tongue into the slit.

Nero flinched and swore and couldn’t catch his breath. His boots scrabbled for purchase on the stone floor, and his back arched, the vines tightening around him with bruising strength. He was outmatched, unable to even begin to formulate a plan to take back control, lost in sensation. He could hear himself making desperate little noises, hips rocking, out of his mind.

“I hate you,” he ground out, hysteria edging each word, and came hard into Vergil’s mouth.

Vergil stood up afterwards and made Nero kiss him, until all he could taste was blood and his own semen. The vines held Nero up almost entirely, and when Vergil waved them away, Nero dropped to his knees. And then struggled back to his feet because he wasn’t returning _that_ favour, and he didn’t want Vergil to get any ideas. He fumbled to zip up his jeans and put on his belt, each deep breath a sore drag across his chest.

Vergil watched him, amused, and Nero wondered what might happen if he took a swing at him. A vine coiled around his arm, and Nero yanked it off the wall.

“I don’t want any more of your help,” he said, reaching for the Red Queen.

“Of course not,” Vergil drawled, infuriatingly, and turned away. Nero followed after.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please let me know. It probably needs a second chapter to develop some of these ideas properly, but who knows when that will happen, lol? I’m on twitter as semjaza_xx if you want to say hi.


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